


A Dead Woman Walks Into a Cannibal's Office

by harleygirl2648



Category: American Gods (TV), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bitchfest, Bitching, Crack, Crack Crossover, Gen, Gore, Sewing, Therapy, basically pure crack, both of them are asshole significant others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 09:52:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11377755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harleygirl2648/pseuds/harleygirl2648
Summary: Laura has a therapy session with Hannibal Lecter that escalates into a bitchfest.





	A Dead Woman Walks Into a Cannibal's Office

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted Hannibal to meet someone who's just as much of an asshole as he is.

BAM. 

BAM. 

BAM.

Each knock was loud and ear-shattering, as though something or someone was ready to break the door down. Slightly irked, Hannibal got up from behind his desk to answer it, already planning to request the interloper’s business card because they were daring to interrupt his brooding session during Will’s slot. _Will,_ who had refused to see him during his stay at the BSHCI _again._ Not _fair._ He put that aside for the moment, and gathered himself as he opened the door.

He was rather surprised to see Laura Moon giving him a death glare from the other side of the door. “Hello, doctor. I know I should have called ahead, but I’ve got a fucking problem and you’re going to listen.”

“Am I, Laura?”

“You’re a fucking therapist, aren’t you? And I, as I mentioned before, have a goddamn annoying _shit_ storm of a fucking problem, so here I am, going to work through it in a healthy way. Can I come in or what?”

Hannibal opened his mouth to respond when he found himself abruptly pushed to the side _(she had more strength than he had thought)_ and she let herself in. The _smell_ that hit his nostrils almost made him physically recoil. “Come in,” he said through barely gritted teeth, shutting the door and turning around to watch Laura look around the office like she owned it. “I must say it’s a surprise to see you, Laura. I received word from your cousin that you had passed away in an accident.”

Laura waved her hand as if to say “whatever,” when her entire right arm snapped off at the shoulder, severing the loose threads apparently keeping it on correctly. All of the veins and arteries and nerve endings were frayed, and yet the only expression crossing Laura’s face was absolutely outrage. She kicked the arm hard, hard enough it hit the opposite wall as she exclaimed with disdain, “Mother _fucker!”_ She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and then opened them again. “Sorry,” she apologized, an apology that held no real meaning. “It’s been a weird few days. Oh, yeah, didn’t answer your question, I’m dead, but that’s not my issue I want to discuss right now.”

“All right,” Hannibal said smoothly, making his way over to his desk as she went and retrieved her arm from the floor. He opened a drawer and removed a needle and a spool of strong thread and gestured for her to come closer. “Please, if you’ll allow me.”

She rolled her eyes and hopped up onto the desk, legs hitting the desks as she passed him her arm and he set to work, carefully matching up all of the frayed parts before starting the stitching itself.

This was a departure from their last visit, to say the least. Laura had come to Baltimore to meet up with a cousin of hers, who had recommended his therapy after she noticed that Laura seemed a little detached. And she had in fact been quite detached during their session, not offering too much about her life or her problems. Her main problem, she said, was not her life or her husband or anything like that; no, it was just that she didn’t feel _anything._

Hannibal supposed that was more evident now, as he was currently sewing on her arm again, and she had no problems with it. She did look to be in terrible shape: her eyes starting to cloud like a cadaver, her skin becoming more translucent, the absolute _stench_ of death and decay. She was a mess.

“Are you listening to me? Hel- _lo,_ doc- _tor_ , aren’t you supposed to _listen_ to your patients?”

He refrained from getting the sharpened letter opener from the other drawer. “My apologies, Laura, what happens to be troubling you?”

“I asked you how you know how to stitch me back up so well, psychiatrists don’t usually have a wide-range of actual medical expertise,” Laura said, tapping her fingers on her free hand against his desk.

“I was a trauma surgeon for a few years until I lost a patient,” Hannibal replied.

“You killed him?”

“Not intentionally.”

“Sure,” Laura said, rolling her eyes. Hannibal bit his bottom lip just enough to not be noticed but let out a bit of annoyance as he pulled a bit harder than he needed to with the thread.

“As I finish this, why don’t you begin with your problem, Laura?”

“Being dead is really _fucking_ inconvenient,” she groaned. “But my real problem is with Shadow.”

“I see,” Hannibal nodded. “I imagine your demise caused a rift in your relationship.”

“Welllll, not _quite,”_ she sighed. “Okay, this is fucking annoying. I came up with this plan and accidentally got Shadow put in jail. And like, I didn’t want him there forever, but I started getting really bored and I slept with his best friend, my best friend’s husband.”

Hannibal paused a little in his stitching, chewing the words. “And why did you feel that you needed to do this?”

She shrugged, aggravating his perfect stitching. “I don’t know, bored. I didn’t feel anything, though. But after I died, I just - I realized that I loved Shadow. I do, I really do. I kissed him and my heart beat for the first time it had since I died.” She smiled. “I guess I really do love him.”

Hannibal nodded again, his mind drifting back to Will. Laura kept talking.

“But when we saw each other again after he got out of jail and I died, he was just - upset with me, I guess? I don’t understand why. He was _actually_ more upset over the cheating than me being alive again, can you fucking believe it?”

“Oh, and you did so much for him, of _course,”_ Hannibal agreed, mind still on Will. “And you care about him, on a deeper emotional level than he comprehends, and you’d do _anything_ for them.”

“Exactly!” Laura agreed. “But he doesn’t _get_ it, even though I _really_ mean it this time.”

“And you only framed them for murder because you were interested in what might happen, but now you know that you really do love him, and you’re willing to forgive and forget and flee the country together and live in Florence.”

Laura turned to Hannibal with a quizzical look on her face. “That’s not what I was talking about.”

Hannibal snapped back to present, and barely held back a glare. “We’re talking about a lot of things, Laura.”

He then put the needle and thread back into a drawer and removed a can of rose/lavender room spray and sprayed it over her. She coughed, waving her freshly-stitched arm around, “What the fuck, doctor?”

He grabbed her arm, “Rest this, we don’t want it to fall off again.”

She actually flicked his forehead and knocked him back into his chair before hopping off of the desk. “Whatever, Dok- _tor._ Any advice for me or am I a lost fucking cause or something?”

Trying to regain his bearings, Hannibal swallowed, composed himself, and then said, “Have you tried accusing him of murder?”

She rolled her eyes, “Please, he’s too much of a puppy to do that.”

And if that didn’t put Will back into his thoughts again. He blinked to try and clear his mind of those thoughts, then offering, “If nothing else-”

“You know what, I don’t why I even came here, you haven't offered me _shit,”_ Laura swore, throwing her jacket back on. “You’re seriously the worst therapist I’ve ever seen, thanks for the arm, though. Here.” She flipped a gold coin onto his desk and headed for the door. “See ya later, doc, gotta run, I've got a meeting in Kentucky.”

The door slammed shut behind her, and all Hannibal could do was spray the air with rosy lavender air freshener again and take a deep breath to calm himself and clear the smell of rotting flesh from his nose.

**Author's Note:**

> I will not apologize for this little bit of crack.
> 
> Please, please leave all the comments and kudos you like! I love responding to them!
> 
> Come visit me on [Tumblr](http://somebodyhelpthenotdeadfreds.tumblr.com)!
> 
> If you liked this, consider [buying me a coffee](http://ko-fi.com/A557230F%20)!


End file.
